Better Hoenns and Gardens
by Celixir
Summary: With his life's work undone in what seems like an instant, Team Plasma's king sets off in search of a place to rebuild his world.


"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of _that_ going on in the country as in town."

Everybody was surprised, and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, farted.

—_Mr. Darcy, Nobilis Inflatus_ [Mr. Darcy, the Farting Gentleman], Chapter IX

**Prologue**

It was over; in a few hours, everything had broken down: his empire, his goals, his dreams, and his illusions.

Who would ever have thought it? For his whole life, his ambition was to ensure the equality of people and Pokemon, so no Pokemon would ever suffer like those he had befriended so long ago. And then, in an instant—what really happened? He was still trying to decipher these fragments: Team Plasma was not really trying to ensure the equality of people and Pokemon, his father was not really the noble and selfless visionary he had appeared to be, and could he even be sure of his own principles that he had held for so many long years?

It was all a blur: they were taking away his father, Reshiram was slowly getting up, and the person who was responsible for all this was recalling her own battered Serperior.

What was he supposed to do now? From this point on, it would all be rebuilding. No more lonely hours spent in his playroom, no more commanding a vast army that would move like a streamlined machine at his bidding, no more plans of separate worlds for Pokemon and people. From this point on, he would be like a plastic bag, drifting through the wind, wanting to start again—ahem.

But how? The answer came almost instantly. He couldn't rebuild his life here. There were too many emotional connections. He had heard of a place … only mentioned in passing, but it was worth a shot … there were no ties to sever, really. It was just he and his Pokemon, for as long as he could remember. And Concordia, and Althea and the girl who had showed him that the relationship between people and Pokemon could be … harmonious. It was on a Ferris wheel ride what seemed like years ago in a different time and place, but if he closed his eyes, he could remember almost every detail: the night sky was cloudless, and speckled with stars that seemed to twinkle in the faint breeze. The air was mildly warm, and the noises of the crowd below floated up to the booth where he and she had sat: the noises of people, of Pokemon; of children laughing, of the whir cotton-candy machine, of the clack of the wheels on the rickety slats of a roller coaster, of a guy who had eaten too many deep-fried Twinkies and had gone on the Cha-Cha Taco of Death ride.

Then, again, he thought, it would be too painful—on both sides. Someone would tell Concordia and Althea—and as for _her_ … he hesitated. But first things first. He walked up to Reshiram. The Pokemon was lying prone, but did not seem as tired as it was just after the battle. In fact, it seemed to have a strange energy it did not have before—not vigor, but … well, something.

"I'm sorry." He reached over and laid his hand on Reshiram's neck. "You'll forgive me, won't you?" He started to add an explanation, an excuse, a story—but then knew, somehow, that Reshiram probably already knew.

"You're free … you know," he continued. Seeing as the Pokemon was not even inclined to get up, he added, "But … of course, if you're tired …" He sighed, paused for a few minutes, then walked to where she and her friends were standing.

The words were harder to get out this time: "I'm sorry."

She looked up, as did her friends.

"Oh!" She seemed rather surprised. "Well, it wasn't exactly your fault entirely, and everything worked out all right, and …"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I guess that's all then. I really am sorry, and—and I wish you the best on—on the rest of your journey."

"Thank you."

He turned to leave. But as he did, Reshiram rose and walked to him. The trainer and "his" Pokemon stared at each other.

"What—do you really?" he asked.

Reshiram nodded.

"But you're free now. You don't have to anymore. It was all a mistake …"

But Reshiram stayed put, and he knew.

"Very well, then, I suppose there's no point in waiting. You do know what I mean, don't you?"

Reshiram nodded again.

"You're not too tired?"

Reshiram shook its head.

With a dream-like glaze over his eyes, he climbed onto Reshiram's back. Reshiram walked toward the edge of the terrace and spread its wings.

He cast one more glance back, at her, she who had turned his world upside-down. She returned the look, but he could not tell what she was trying to say. It really was too bad … he thought, but then Reshiram's feet left the ground, and with a few flaps of Reshiram's giant wings, the castle, the league, and the girl all disappeared beneath a thick layer of white.

**I.**

Max came running down the stairs. "May!" he called. "It's your turn to clean out the monkey house!"

"WHAT!" came the reply from the kitchen. "IT'S YOUR TURN! I DID IT TWO DAYS AGO!"

"Yeah, but that's according to the system that we use when Mom and Dad are here. Now that they're not here, you do it every Tuesday of the second week of odd-numbered months when the year is not a leap year, and depending on the length of time Mom and Dad are away, you add one or two to the denominator of the fraction in the equation used for calculating the schedule, one if they're away for an odd number of days, and two if—"

"WHAT!" came the reply. "MOM AND DAD ARE GONE AGAIN!"

"May, if you would just come here instead of screaming across the house … "

"I CAN'T! I'VE GOT TO WATCH THE OVEN!"

Max sighed and ran into the kitchen.

"Mom and Dad left an hour ago, remember?"

"What for?"

"Their honeymoon."

"Again? That's their third honeymoon this month!"

"I know, it's weird, isn't it? I'm beginning to think that there's more to the story than meets the eye. … I bet it has something to do with those undercover agents who came to the house last week!"

"What undercover agents—oh, you mean the TV repairman and the pizza delivery guy!"

"Sure, that's what they claimed to be," said Max. "But I bet they were secret agents from the government who called Dad away on a top-secret mission to the Unova region. You know, I heard that the Pokemon there are starting a revolution to overthrow the people in charge and to institute equality between people and Pokemon. _Libertie! Fraternitie! Egalitie!_ Twitter and Facebook! _Vive la Revolucion_!"

"You have been watching too much 'I Love Lucy' recently," said May, and she glanced at the oven timer. "Anyway, all I know is that _I_ cleaned the monkey house last time, and—say! Hasn't anybody answered our 'Help Wanted' ad yet?"

"You just posted it yesterday, you know," said Max.

"Well, things get around quickly nowadays," said May, and she switched off the oven.

"In the meantime, though, the monkey house still needs to be cleaned."

"And _you_ can do it!" said May enthusiastically, as she set a fresh batch of Poffins on the counter-top.

"What are those?"

"Poffins. A Sinnoh culinary treat. I picked up the recipe while I was doing contests there."

"They smell funny."

"That's the monkey house! _You_ put Vigoroth on that high-fiber diet, _you_ clean up the aftermath!"

Max opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment, the doorbell rang.

"I hope it's another secret agent," said Max.

"I hope it's an answer to our ad," said May.

May opened the door.

"Yes?"

"I saw your ad, and well … I'd like the job if it's still available."

"O-oh! Come right in, sir!" May grabbed the man by the wrist and yanked him into the foyer. "Have a seat! I'll be right back!" Then she grabbed Max and yanked him into the kitchen.

"We got one!"

"He looks too well-dressed to be taking a job like this. May, you didn't sugarcoat the job in the description, did you?"

"Of course not. I put 'Not recommended for the elderly, nursing or pregnant women, people with health conditions, or people who can't stand the smell of number two.'"

"Then I bet he's a secret government agent! We should ask him what's going on in Unova!"

"Don't be silly," said May. "Now, we have to put on a good appearance. This might be the only person who applies!" She patted her hair and walked into the sitting-room.

"So," she said, taking a seat across from the potential employee. "You want the position of 'sanitation engineer' at the Petalburg Gym, is that correct?"

"That is correct." Max rolled his eyes.

"You do know what the job entails, don't you?"

"I am familiar with euphemisms," replied the possible "sanitation engineer". Max mouthed the words _background check_ to May.

"U-hum! Well!" said May, taking out a notebook that she had made for such purposes. "Let me ask you a few questions about yourself. Where are you from?"

"Unova."

"Oh!" interjected Max. "Have you heard anything about the revolution that's brewing over there? The one where the Pokemon overthrow the government and the whole Pokemon-trainer relationship?"

"It never came about," replied the stranger quietly.

"Maybe they really did go on another honeymoon," said Max dejectedly.

"Parents?" continued May.

"May, why are you asking about his parents?"

"Because if his father was nobility and his mother was a chorus girl, we could have a scandal on our hands."

"And I think _you_ have been reading too many Charlotte Zamboni novels!"

"That's 'Charlotte Bronte'."

"Whatever."

"My mother—I only have vague memories of her. And my father—my father is, for all intents and purposes—dead."

"'For all intents and purposes—dead'," repeated May, scribbling furiously in her notebook. "Do you want me to keep that pause between 'purposes' and 'dead' in the official transcript? … Ow! Max, what did you do that for!"

Having given Max The Glare, May licked her fingertip and turned to a blank spot in the notebook. "Now about your wages—o-oh! Max!" May started from her seat, grabbed Max again, and yanked him into the kitchen.

"Max, I totally forgot! What are we going to do about his salary?"

"Oh, no! I forgot about that too! … Well, let's see, I got my allowance last week, and you did too—and you didn't spend it, I hope?"

May shook her head.

"Well, let's see—you got ten dollars, I got five—do you have any kitty money?"

"No, I spent it all on accessories for my Pokemon!"

"Well, do you have a nugget or something you can sell to a Mart?"

"No."

"Okay, then, fifteen dollars a week."

"Oh, Max! He'll think it's a joke! He'll never take the job!"

"Well, I'll throw in my Babe Ruth rookie card and a package of bubble-gum."

"Oh, Max!"

"_And_ my first-edition 'Superman Meets the Radioactive Hungarian Zombie Baboons' comic book."

"Oh, Max!" sighed May. "We'll just have to think of something. Come on, he's waiting."

"_And_ the talking Beethoven Sock Puppet I won from the Slateport Fair!"

"N-now, about your salary—" began May as she sat down again.

"It won't be necessary," said the man.

"It—wha?" exclaimed May.

"I don't need money," said the man. "You see, I am taking this job for—for personal reasons. I don't say that I will not need remuneration. I was hoping … that I could stay at the Gym."

"That's reasonable," said May to Max.

"What about meals?" said Max.

"What about meals?" said May.

"I will take care of that myself," said the man. The three stared at each other for a few moments.

"Well, it's a deal, then!" said May. She added quickly: "That is, if you're fine with it."

The man nodded.

"You can start tomorrow," said May, and all three rose from their seats. "Oh!" May added. "You'll need a key to the gym. Let me get the copies."

As May was closing the door, Max said, "May, are you sure about all this?"

"Sure," said May. "We don't have to pay him in money, he can stay in living quarters at the Gym, and our problems are solved!"

"I guess …" said Max. "But we didn't even get his name!"

"Well … we could ask him tomorrow," said May. "Or just call him 'Hey, Sanitation Engineer'!"

"It's better than 'Hey, Pooper Scooper', I suppose," said Max.

**II.**

The next morning, just before breakfast, May and Max headed over to the gym to see if there were any challengers.

"Who's going to battle them if there are any?" said Max.

"I think you should," said May. "Dad's Pokemon get along better with you. I tried battling someone with Vigoroth, and it threw … never mind."

"Ummm," said Max.

They were surprised, though, to find the gym door already ajar and noises coming from inside.

"Maybe it's our new sanitation engineer," said May.

"No one would get up this early to scoop poop," said Max.

"Well, no-one else has the keys," said May.

"Maybe it's more secret agents," said Max.

Keeping her hand on her Pokeballs in case, May cautiously pushed the door fully open, and she and Max walked in.

"The noises sound like they're coming from the monkey house," said Max.

The two of them walked down the hallway separating the training area from the "monkey house", the habitat for Norman's Pokemon, until they came to the door to the habitat. It too was slightly ajar, and May pushed it open so she could see what all the noise was.

The new sanitation engineer was emptying a bucket of water into the catch-all sink. A cart stood nearby, with a mop and broom sticking out of the tool-holders. The whole place was noticeably freshened up, and it no longer smelled like one would expect a monkey house to smell like. It smelled like cinnamon rolls.

"'Essence of Cinnamon Roll. A high-calorie treat without all the calories. High-Calorie Plug-In Air-Fresheners® also come in Lard-Fried Fatty Bacon, Twelve-Course Meal, and Real Cheesecake Without Any Fake Artificial Sweeteners or Stuff Like That™. Be the first in your neighborhood to collect them all!'" read Max.

"How do they fit all that on one little air-freshener?" said May.

"Good morning." The sanitation engineer had finished emptying the bucket and was facing May and Max.

"Oh!" May looked up. "You're here early! We weren't expecting you until nine."

"I'm a light sleeper, and I had to do something to keep myself busy."

"Well! … The place looks a lot better than before you got here!" said May.

"What did you do with all the poop?" said Max. "You didn't dump it in the garbage bins out back did you? The local nuclear chemistry lab also dumps their radioactive waste into those bins, and we once had mutant killer monster poop goons terrorizing the town for four days. … It was on the evening news, and they were going to interview my dad about it, but everyone kept passing out from the smell. Would you believe the song they used for the newscast was 'Firework'?"

"Er … I had my partner get rid of it."

"Your partner?"

"Out back."

May and Max ran to the door opening to the outside. May opened it; Reshiram was standing outside.

"What is _that_?" exclaimed Max. May pulled her Pokedex out of her fanny-pack and flipped it open.

"No entry found," said the robotic voice. "Some Pokemon have yet to be catalogued."

"So that's what a Unova Pokemon looks like," said Max.

"It doesn't look a whole lot different from a Kanto or Johto or Hoenn or Sinnoh Pokemon, I must admit," said May.

"How did he get rid of it? Did he eat it?" said Max.

On cue, Reshiram let out a Fusion Flare that incinerated a bag of grass clippings that had been left by the curb.

"Oh."

May shot a look at Max.

"Well … we were just going to have breakfast … you're more than welcome to join us …" began May.

"Thank you, but I already ate. However, I will enjoy the company."

He pushed the cart with the mop and broom to the side, set the buckets next to the cart, and closed the door.

"What about your Pokemon?"

"He'll get along fine."

The three of them headed back to the house.

"So … tell me again why you wanted this job," said May over re-heated pizza ("I think this is past its expiration date. The pepperoni on this slice is yodeling 'My Heart Will Go On'," said Max.) "You know, it's … well, what it is."

"Yeah," said Max. "May and I were inventing all sorts of ways to make it as painless as possible. Like, we tried using a vacuum cleaner, but then it exploded, and—"

"Well, my father was a very rich man, and I led a very sheltered childhood. For the longest time, I thought I was normal—but when I started going on my own adventures and seeing how everyone else lived, I began to realize—in some ways, I never really grew up. I—I feel embarrassed saying this, but I still play—play_ed_ with toys. …

"It was a very lonely existence, too; all my friends were Pokemon. I never really was around too many people—in a way. My father had lots of—servants, of course, but, you know, they were always on a different level than I was."

"Oh look, angsty back story before nine o'clock," muttered Max. "Isn't that bad for digestion?"

"Well, then again," said May, her eyes filled with I Think You Need to Shut up Now, "so is yodeling pepperoni." She picked hers off her pizza and threw them at Max under the table.

"It was always just chasing a fanciful idealistic world, which now I see cannot and should not exist. So how many years have been wasted chasing these chimeras? Now, I just want to make up for lost time. Do what people—not blind idealists—do. Work for a living. Do something productive. I don't know how long it will take me to integrate myself into a new world, and I don't know where my journey will end up. But it's an exciting feeling, for once in my life not having a pre-set goal and rigid expectations to live up to. This really is freedom, isn't it?"

"Boooorn freeeee," Max burst into song, "As free as the wiiiiiiiiiind blows—ow! What was that for!"

**III.**

"Flannery! What a surprise! What are you doing here?" exclaimed May.

"Hi, May. I just thought I'd visit Petalburg for the next week … or two … or three … or four."

"Oh. Why?"

"Our town has been overrun by mutant killer monster poop goons."

"Do you have nuclear chemists there, too?"

"No, but I think they escaped from somewhere else."

May shot a look at Max, and Max coughed.

"So, what's new, girl?" said Flannery.

"We got someone to clean the monkey house," said May.

"Oh," said Flannery. "Your dad tells us horror stories when the gym leaders have conferences. This person must have a nose of steel."

"He's a very interesting person," said May. "You have to meet him; he has the most interesting stories."

At that moment, the person with the interesting stories appeared carrying a black plastic garbage bag and a cardboard box.

"Is that him?" said Flannery.

"Uh-huh," said May.

"He looks familiar," said Flannery, furrowing her eyebrows.

"He just came to town," said May. "From the Unova region."

"Yeah, I think I heard something about …" Flannery stopped mid-sentence, furrowed her eyebrows again, and then changed direction. "Well, I'll be staying at that bed and breakfast by the seashore, in case you want to get in touch."

"Which one? The one that Mr. Briney opened last year?"

"No, the other one, 'Bed, Breakfast, and Beyond'."

"Oh," said May.

"Well, I guess I had better be going, or I'm going to miss lunch," said Flannery. "It's Cream of Oreo soup."

"I'd invite you to stay for lunch, but I'm afraid our menu isn't much more appetizing," said May. "We found a way to get our pepperoni to stop yodeling, so we're going to put them in a casserole."

**IV.**

Max was taking on all challengers at the gym, so May had a free afternoon, which she used to catch up on the latest Pokemon fashion trends from the magazines she had bought from the drugstore. She was absentmindedly skimming an article when the telephone rang. She yawned and reached for the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hello? May?"

"Flannery? Is that you?"

"Yes. May, are you still alive?"

May blinked. "As far as I know, yes. I haven't heard any reports otherwise."

"Oh, good—"

"This isn't a prank call, is it?"

"No. Listen, May, have you ever heard of Team Plasma?"

"No, but is it somehow related to Team Rocket or Team Aqua or Team Magma or something like that?"

"Well, sort of. They're an extremist organization from the Unova region who wants to abolish the old social order of people and Pokemon. You know, people owning Pokemon and all that."

"I think I might have heard something about it—Max was talking about something like that."

"Well, they are a very, very dangerous organization. They make Team Aqua and Team Magma look like Mr. Rogers."

"Okay," said May, "so what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well," said Flannery, "I heard that their leader is a ruthless and efficient person who will stop at nothing to achieve his goals. I heard on the news recently that his plans for a revolution in Unova are well underway and it's only a matter of time before there is a violent shift of power."

"Well, that's all in Unova," said May. "I suppose it will somehow spill over into the Hoenn, but—"

"May, do you know who their leader is? He's your new pooper-scooper!"

"Oh, Flannery, don't be silly. What would he be doing here?"

"Well, I heard that he's targeting gym leaders, as the representatives of a system that exploits Pokemon for competitions or whatever."

"But Flannery, even if he were (which I highly doubt he is), I'm not a gym leader."

"No, but what if _he didn't know that_, only having come to the Hoenn yesterday? He might very well think you and Max are the gym leaders here!"

May gulped. "Well, how do you know it's him, anyways?"

"Does this description sound familiar: 'Long green hair, black cap, white shirt' etc. etc.?"

"But why would he be targeting us? Specifically? In the Hoenn?"

"I don't know, but this man might not stop at murder! You're in danger, and I'm coming—"

The telephone suddenly went silent.

"Hello? Hello? Flannery? Huh, that's odd." May stared at the screen. _No connection_. What had happened … ?

She dropped her magazine and headed downstairs to see if any of the extensions were working. On the way down the stairs, she ran into the new employee.

"Oh, hi," said May. "The telephone just lost its connection, and I'm going to see if—"

"They're all down," he said. "That's what I came to tell you about; I accidentally cut your telephone line. I'm terribly sorry; I was—well, I'm terribly sorry."

May stood there for a moment and then suddenly shivered.

"Oh … then perhaps I had better go into town and find a repairman."

"I just came from town. All the shops seemed to be closed."

Oh, right, May thought. Today's Saturday, and they're all closing early … Petalburg isn't a large city, she reflected. If I were to run for help … Then she stopped. I'm being so silly! Flannery's wrong; this guy isn't a murderous maniac who has cut me off from civilization so he can kill me without anyone knowing.

"Then I guess I'll go over to the gym and tell Max—"

"No. Don't."

"What?"

"I mean, you could always tell him later."

"Yeah, well … oh! Well, either way, I suppose someone should relieve him. He's been taking on trainers all day, and he might be getting tired, and …" May walked hesitatingly toward the door.

"It's been a rather slow day."

Was that a threat? May wondered. He's just standing there, and if I left … if I started running, he'd know in an instant, and it would be all over. If I just pretended to walk to the gym, though, but turned and walked toward town or the nearest pay phone … but he knows what direction the gym is in, and he watched me, he'd know … I know! What if I went to the gym, got Max, and went out the back door and looped around to town? It's a long shot, but it might work … But what excuse could I give for going to the gym?

"Well, maybe I had better go see if the toilets are still working," said May.

"Why shouldn't they be?"

"You never know! Ha ha ha!" May coughed.

"I'll go with you."

May smiled and forced out a cheery "Oh! Why?"

"To see if I can be of any assistance."

"Oh! I know how to inspect toilets really well. I mean, I know a broken toilet when I see one!"

"But can you fix one?"

"Oh! Well! … A-hum!" May sighed. "Well, they could always use the Porta-Potty if need be, I suppose."

The man sighed and took a seat by the window.

"It's … it's six o'clock," said May. "You can knock off, if you want to."

"I'm just waiting for Max."

Max? thought May, and she shivered.

"But I suppose he might be a long time, and I might as well make myself useful. Are there any repairs that need to be done around here?"

May was about to respond, then checked herself, pondered something for a few moments, and then answered, "You could check the kitchen … or better yet, the backyard … or better still, our neighbor's backyard. Yes, I think they're planting bougainvillea."

He stared at May. Does he know … ? she wondered.

"I guess I'll go back to my magazines and leave all the handyman stuff to you," said May with a hollow laugh. She turned and walked as calmly as she could back to her room.

Every noise in her room was amplified as she sat down to think. The ticking of her clock, the faint hum of her computer, the creaking of her bed springs—and not least the dull pounding of her chest. She surveyed her room, trying desperately to grasp at an idea—something, anything. But she did not even know what she was trying to do, much less have any idea of how to go about it; in her agitation, she could not form a coherent strategy. Maybe if I tried writing something down, she thought. She got up and walked to her closet where she kept her notebooks. The box she wanted was nestled in the back, half-hidden under a pile of clothes and Pokemon accessories. She stepped in to reach the box, and suddenly felt a hand clasp over her mouth. It would not have done much in stifling a scream, but May was far too shocked to scream. Before she could gather her thoughts, she heard someone saying,

"It's me, Flannery! Don't scream, May, or he'll hear you."

The hand was pulled away, and May turned around to face Flannery.

"Shh," continued Flannery, her own voice a low whisper. "I sneaked over here from the B-and-B after I called you. I was afraid I would be too late."

"Oh!" was all May could manage to say. Flannery continued:

"Listen, May, we may be dealing with a ruthless killer, but I formulated a plan of my own. … Say, what happened? Why did you hang up?"

"The phone line was cut—by him!" said May.

"O-oh!" said Flannery, her eyes widening. "Well, we've got to get a hold of the authorities somehow. We're going to need to sneak out to the nearest pay phone. We can go out the window."

"No, we can't," said May. "He might be in the backyard right now. I don't know where he is for sure, but I left him downstairs by the window. Hey, how did you sneak here in the first place?"

"I just got here. I left as soon as the connection was lost. I happened to see him leaving the Gym on my way here, so I ducked down a side road and entered your backyard. From there, I climbed into Max's room, then when you went into the hallway, I ducked in here."

"So what do you plan to do?" said May.

"Well, you know that Cream of Oreo soup that I was going to have for lunch?" said Flannery. "As it turns out, it's a perfect anesthesia, and it works if absorbed through the skin! Mrs. McGillicuddy, the cook, was bringing a bowl of the stuff into the dining room, and she spilled some on herself, and she passed out immediately. The rest of the guests all ran screaming, but I saved my portion … and of course I tested it out."

"On what—or whom!"

"On a mutant killer monster poop goon that was roaming around the place. 'This product not tested on Pokemon' etc." Flannery reached into her pocket and took out a small plastic container of the soup. "So here's the plan: you go and talk to him, carrying this behind your back. Make sure to take the lid off first. And then let him have it! Then we'll stuff him in the closet and call the police. Have one of your Pokemon stand guard."

"Flannery, what if it turns out that this guy's not a psychopathic killer after all?"

"Then he's probably something worse. Don't forget not to touch the soup!"

**V.**

I must be strong; I must not lose my grip and ruin the whole thing. This may very well be the only chance I have at getting out of the house alive, thought May. Macabre stories from the eleven-o'clock news began running through her head. I must stay calm, collected—or at least appear that way so he will not suspect anything! Countless women throughout history have carried out their duties heroically without flinching! I must be like—like Joan of Arc, going boldly ahead, not like Susie Jo Epiglottis!

(Susie Jo Epiglottis was a woman whose house was broken into while she was in bed, watching _Jeopardy!_ She had gotten so panicked that she jumped out the window and ran screaming all the way to her nearest neighbor, about half a mile down the road. As it so happened, the hem of her nightgown snagged on the latch of the window, but Susie Jo was running so fast that instead of the hem tearing, the window came out instead. And as it so happened, that window was the "weakest link" in the house's frame, and the house collapsed, trapping the burglars. The story was recounted on the seven-o'clock news, with "details at eleven".)

At the head of the stairs, May suddenly froze. He was standing at the foot—though not facing her; he was staring toward the door. This is my chance—if I could take him by surprise … thought May. I know what: I'll tiptoe down until I'm just within a few feet of him; then I'll throw it.

She proceeded to execute her plan; it went without a hitch until she stepped on the stair that squeaked. He spun around; she panicked like Susie Jo Epiglottis (but she didn't jump out the window; there were none close enough); in that split second, she started to throw it, but (not having enough time to collect her wits) lost her grip on the container (which she had opened); and the container went sailing across the room. The soup spilled on the front door, and the most amazing thing happened: the door dissolved completely. Wood, metal, glass, and all.

May gasped. He looked dumbfounded. Then Flannery, not knowing that the plan had gane agley, jumped out of the closet and bopped him on the head with a ten-pound frozen turkey from Costco. He went out like a light; May just stood there; Flannery ran for the telephone; Max walked in through the door … way.

"May? What's going on here?"

Then May pulled herself together to say, "OH MAX! It was so horrible! Our pooper scooper is a fugitive murderer from Unova who came here to kill us all and he had me trapped here and he was just waiting for you to come home so he could kill you too so there would be no witnesses and then he was going to bury our bodies in the neighbors' backyard but luckily Flannery had anesthetic Cream of Oreo soup and OH MAX IT WAS SO HORRIBLE!"

"What! May, you've got it all wrong! I just saw it on the seven-o'clock news! He's not a bad guy, it was his dad and his henchmen who were the bad guys. I'm not sure about the whole thing, but there will be details at eleven. I rushed over to tell you because I was afraid you were going to do something rash! … What's Flannery doing here?"

"Leaving!" said Flannery, turning very red and grinning sheepishly. "Oh," she added, "this is your turkey." She tossed it to Max before running through the door … way and all the way back to Bed, Breakfast, and Beyond, where she was just in time for Mrs. McGillicuddy's Cream of Tootsie Roll soup for dinner.

"We had a frozen turkey? Hey May, why didn't you make this for dinner or breakfast or lunch?"

**Epilogue**

"So," said Max. "Do you ever miss Unova?"

The green-haired man paused a minute before answering, "I suppose not. There were a lot of memories there that … that I suppose I am better off leaving far, far behind. Hoenn is a virgin road for me, a place not yet marred by my past." He paused again, and then his eyes seemed to brighten. "But," he added. "that is not to say that there aren't people whom I should like very much to see again. Unova is not all shadow for me."

He did not say it out loud, but he was thinking of a time which seemed to him now as if it were part of an old and yellowed history which he was only a secondhand observer of; a time in which he had once ridden a Ferris wheel with a girl who had showed him that maybe, just maybe, the world wasn't all he had originally believed it to be. He sighed. It almost seemed to him as if he could hear, across the star-speckled sky, the sounds from that night long ago: the noises of people, of Pokemon; of children laughing, of the whir cotton-candy machine, of the clack of the wheels on the rickety slats of a roller coaster, of a guy who had eaten too many deep-fried Twinkies and had gone on the Cha-Cha Taco of Death ride.

Actually, he was hearing that last one. The Taco of Death rider had quite an impressive lung capacity. But the green-haired man was never to know. Some things, like the equation that would change the world, were not meant to be discovered. A faint chill now hung in the night air.

He cast one last look at the sky before closing the window.

**The End**


End file.
